Thursday, October 30, 2014

A Hallowe'en party is always a good chance to live your fantasies for a few hours by turning yourself into someone - or something - else. Let's listen in on the conversation between these two partygoers.

Complete the caption by leaving a comment and I will treat you to the replies in an upcoming post.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

We all love to receive comments, but unfortunately, spammers know that, and they often flood our blogs with spam that is thinly disguised as a comment, but is actually designed to advertise their websites. One way to avoid spam is by implementing word verification. A person who comments must solve a CAPTCHA before the comment will publish.

Most of us don't do that because it is a nuisance to our readers. In Blogger, the spam filters are very good at detecting spam comments, and Blogger puts these comments into the Spam folder before they ever reach your posts.

However, there has been a change at Blogger HQ. In order to thwart the spammers more severely, a new rule has been enforced. The new rule only impacts readers who wish to leave a comment anonymously. Here is what happens.

A person with a Google account who leaves a comment while logged on to that account will see this.

The reader enters a comment which is published with no further fuss.

If, on the other hand, the potential commenter chooses to comment anonymously:

that reader will then be presented with a CAPTCHA to solve.

But it doesn't happen every time. If you have a Google account and are logged on to that account, then choose to post an anonymous comment, you won't see the CAPTCHA. If you don't have a Google account, or have one but are not logged on to it, you will see the CAPTCHA.

Got it? The confusing part is that this happens regardless of whether or not the blog owner has word verification turned on. So if anyone tries to leave an anonymous comment on this blog and runs up against two illegible words, it isn't my doing. Blame Blogger and Google!

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Last week we met Alison, a young wife entering the workforce after she and her husband separated. Her new boss, Mr. Kirkham, is a tyrant, a bully, and a stickler for punctuality. Unfortunately, Alison arrived late on her first day; she was warned that any further tardiness would lead to a good, sound caning. Let's see if Alison is on time today, in part two of R.T. Mason's story.

The opportunity arrived the very next morning. Alison caught the earlier train again but ten minutes before its destination it ground to a halt. Some fault or other. There was a 20 minute delay. She was almost hysterical by the time the train pulled in. Then the tube seemed to wait forever at every stop and, to cap it all, there was finally a several-minute stoppage along the line just before her station. Alison didn't dare look at her watch as she ran along the street as best she could on her high heels.

She did look at her watch as the elevator made its leisurely ascent to the fifth floor. It was 9:12 and she felt sick to the stomach.

Alison had her explanation ready but the words just wouldn't come out. She was struck dumb with fright.

He was standing behind his desk as he had stood on that first morning, his face set and hard. But now there was a look of gloating anticipation as well.

He said, "You heard my instructions about punctuality, Mrs Clements. Yet here you are, a quarter of an hour late on two of your three mornings. I should dismiss you immediately but what would you do then, eh?"

Alison could feel the world closing in on her. She was shaking with terror.

"I think you're trying it on with me, Mrs Clements. I think you are testing me to see if I am bluffing. Well, I shall show you that I'm not. I'm going to give you a taste of the cane."

Alison heard herself whisper, "But you can't." It seemed like someone else's voice. For the truth was, she knew he could.

"Are you arguing with me?" The cold force of Mr Kirkham's voice made Alison shiver. His chin was aggressively thrust under her nose, his jowls quivering. No, no she wasn't going to argue. Plead, perhaps...

"Oh pleeeease..." more like a squeak from a mouse than the remonstration of a mature woman.

Mr Kirkham handed her a shiny key. "Go and lock the outer door, then get in your room and take your skirt off. And then get your knickers down. Stand at your desk like that and wait there until I come in. I warned you what I would do and you've chosen to deliberately disobey my warning. Now you'll find out what the consequences are!"

She put down her handbag and looked helplessly around. It was outrageous but there was no way she could stand up to him. Tears brimming in her eyes, tears of helpless shameful impotence, Alison's shaking hands went to the zip of her skirt. She was shaking all over.

Frank Kirkham was trembling too, with lustful excitement. He had sensed his dominance over this young woman at the outset but, nonetheless, you could never be certain how these girls would react. They weren't logical, their minds worked in funny ways. But he had been pretty certain about this frightened mouse. He went to the bookshelf and took out his cane. Eyes gleaming, he slammed it down across the top of his desk with a fearsome CRACK!

Alison, in the other room, almost jumped out of her skin. She had taken her skirt off. Now, with a tearful whimper, she slid her knickers down. And then stood wringing her hands in mental anguish.

Frank Kirkham walked over and glanced through the half opened door of Alison's office. The blood pounded in his ears. Christ! He felt a furious urge to stride straight in there, but he restrained himself. Let her sweat for a bit. He went back and sat at his desk, his head full of what he had seen. The pretty little mouse standing submissively at her desk, her back towards him, with her skirt off and her pale blue knickers nestling around the tops of her thighs. A ripe pale vulnerable rump softly gleaming.

He looked at his watch. He would let her have a good ten minutes to stew. And then he would give her a good dose of what that Egyptian girl had got.

Alison stood shivering. She had expected him to come straight in, cane in hand. She blinked away more tears. It was quite unbearably humiliating standing there in front of her desk with her skirt off and her knickers down. In her suit jacket and blouse above the waist but below just her suspender belt and nylons - and her knickers humiliatingly posed around her thighs. Everything since Mark had left had been a nightmare and now she was in the worst nightmare of all. She started to sob.

It seemed to go on forever. Alison's mind began playing tricks, making her think her legs were giving way and she was about to collapse on the floor. Why am I doing this, she asked herself, why don't I simply refuse? Put my clothes back on and walk out? But Alison knew she wouldn't. She would remain standing until she literally collapsed - because she was petrified of disobeying him.

Then at last...

"Right, let's deal with you then. You're getting six strokes. Six for unpunctuality."

The harsh voice, the hypnotically intimidating presence.

"Clear your desk and lay right across it."

Alison wanted to scream, shriek - and she desperately wanted to hide her nude bottom and everything else on show from Mr Kirkham's steely gaze. Her hands came protectively behind her. Then she yelped as the cane struck stingingly across the backs of her hands.

"Cut that out and do exactly as I say!"

Alison did it - hands clumsily responding, pushing things aside, clearing a space. So that she could lie across her desk and be caned. She was crying again, tears falling on the desk. Mr Kirkham telling her to grip the far side.

"And keep still. Stick that bottom out a bit more."

Alison now sobbing with sheer fright. Her soft defenceless bottom exposed, thrust up over the edge of her desk. This couldn't be happening.

CRACK!

A red haze before her closed eyes. And the pain! It felt as if she had been cut in two. Alison held on for dear life as the pain welled, pulsed through her. It was maddening, fiendish, utterly ferocious. She hung on as, with a second ear splitting CRACK! the thin bamboo, once used in Egypt for caning naughty wives, sliced in again.

Alison heard herself shriek. Six, he had said. No it was impossible to take six... NO, she couldn't... four more like that was not poss...

CRACK!

* * *

She was feeling sort of numb. She had been feeling that way all day, ever since Mr Kirkham had done it, or at least ever since the initial biting sting had worn off. She had taken a bath earlier in the evening, a long soaking bath, and apart from that numb feeling she didn't feel as bad, strangely, as she had the previous evening. She seemed to have lost her hysterical panicky fear. It was almost as if, now the caning had happened, it had produced a kind of calmness.

Alison wasn't really feeling tired, but she did want very much to go to bed. She went much earlier than usual and then lay there awake for a long time feeling alone and scared. And something else. She felt strange. Oddly vibrant. Thinking. Wondering. Maybe her train would be late again in the morning. If it was... well there was nothing she could do about it. Mr Kirkham would presumably cane her again for lateness. It hurt terribly and it was terribly humiliating... but there were other feelings too. Alison could see how some women liked being dominated, liked being forced to submit.

He was going to cane her bare bottom again anyway, whether her train was late or not. He had told her, just before she left, that she wasn't filing things properly. And he thought he better deal with that in the morning. Alison had given him a quick, darting, nervous look and then looked away in embarrassment. Then Mr Kirkham's hand had slapped smartly across her bottom as she left the office.

Lying in the big double bed all by herself, Alison softly and continuously stroked the lumpy corrugated grid of cane welts covering both her bottom cheeks. They were sore and felt hot to her touch. She lay trembling, nude between the sheets, though she was not cold. She normally slept in a nightie but tonight she had wanted to be naked. Her mind was filled with an overwhelming sense of being alone, and torn by shocking images of what Mr Kirkham, with his paralysing dominance, had done to her.

The stripes still glowing across her bottom constantly reminded her of how easily she had submitted.

With her right hand, Alison caressed them. The tingling seemed to throb through every nerve of her body eliciting sensations everywhere. With a fresh shock - this time of guilt - she found that the fingertips of her left hand were straying down to the moistness at the base of her belly, just the way she had always wanted Mark to touch her. He was gone now, out of her life forever, and she was so in need of comfort. She made no effort to stop the teardrops dripping silently down her cheeks, thus dampening her pillow. Now there was no one to understand what she was going through.

Well now, that seems to have done the trick for Alison. Perhaps working for a tyrant would prove to be good for her.

Monday, October 27, 2014

How do your family pets react to your spankings? Let's see what you said:

Simon: I don't have any pets but years ago I visited a Mistress who had a cat.
Normally it wouldn't pay any attention to what we were up to. One day
though I was tied naked to the bed,face down and Mistress had
disappeared somewhere. The cat came in and decided that it would climb
onto me and go to sleep, I just had to lie there as motionless as
possible as I was terrified that if disturbed it would stick its claws
into my already very sore bottom.When Mistress re-entered the room she
burst out laughing which disturbed the cat who ran off, thankfully
without sticking its claws in. We decided that cat bondage was probably
not something that we would make a regular part of our sessions.

Six of the best: I am sure many a pet, if they could talk in our language would say "The cat's meow", "hot dog", "makes horse sense", "a bird's eye view", etc.

Downunder Don: I think that Jett, our rescue dog, has been subject to some sort of
abuse before we got him. Consequently if there is ever a raised hand or
angry word he totally freaks out. Because of that he gets a treat and is
quietly locked out if there is any spanking activity happening.

Minelle: If we are in the Living Room the dogs may try and go for either of us.
No teeth just plenty of aggression. They aren't sure who to protect!

mouse: We don't play around with the dogs around. Both are very protective and we never want to undermine that. That's also because we go pretty far beyond spanking :)

Abby: The cat does not like to be in the same room we are playing in. If we
choose a room she is already settled in, she gives us a 'look' as she
saunters out.

Baxter: Our Samoyed runs away to the furthest part of the house when my wife
starts spanking me, or the rare time I spank my wife. The dog was abused
prior to our rescue-adopting him so it is probably a natural response.

Anon: I'm happy that i don't have any pets.

Arched one: Love having coffee and listening to others comments on pets. I wonder if
one had a pet that watched one being spanked would that be something
like your sister-in-law or mother-in-law watching? We don't have any
pets so I can't add to the comments.

Ronnie: No pets now but when we had our German Shepherd we had to lock her away in another room as she was very protective.

S: D had left me, tied over a low stool, my bare bottom really smarting
from a good slippering he had given me. Then I realised that our dog,
Jack was in the room; he came over to me, and started licking my burning
cheeks; his gentle wet tongue had a magic, soothing effect. I purred
with pleasure, and even more so when a wet cold nose started to probe
between my cheeks. I was getting very excited, when D came back, took
Jack away, and finished the job himself.

Roz: We have two cats and as Abby said, they usually don't like to be in the same room and give us a look before leaving.

*Bonnie*: Love this question! We have two dogs and their reaction is very
different. Our little dog leaves the room quickly at the first sign. Our
other dog is a boxer and he's totally into it. He loves to watch and
often tries to join in.

Dana: My male dog is very protective of me so he has to be put out when a
spanking is due. He will bark at Steve, try to bite at the implement or
wedge himself between us. On one occasion, he even laid down across my
butt to protect it.

My female dogs and the cat, on the other hand, just ignore it.

Hermione: We once had a black cat that would swat my husband with his paw if anything physical was taking place. We thought that was so funny it often put an end to the proceedings, at least until puss had left the room. Our dogs are always put into their crates, out of earshot, before we begin, because Fang would be upset by the noise and Fluffy would try to join in the fun.

Those are all amusing tales! I was hoping to hear a bird story, so if there is anyone who has a pet bird with an opinion about spanking, I would love to know.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

The coffee's hot, so pour yourself a cup and take a seat (if you are able, that is). Many of us have animals in our lives - dogs, cats, birds, horses and other beloved pets. Their welfare is important to us, and they are part of our families.

What do your animals think of your spanking activities. How do they react? Do they interfere, join in, or just ignore it?

Leave your reply as a comment, and once everyone has had a chance to respond I will publish your thoughts in an upcoming post.

Saturday, October 25, 2014

Overheard conversations are often too good not to pass along. Here they are:

Simon: I'm sorry old chap but you can't thrash her just because she thinks your hat is too small.

Anon: "I say old boy; you must set the record straight, and show her who's boss!"

Jon: "Lord Beaverbend, now that I've married your daughter and taken her off your hands, may I borrow that cane for our honeymoon?""Certainly, certainly. I have another in the carriage for the trip home with Lady Beaverbend. Knowing my daughter and wife so well, I always travel with a spare."

Ronnie: I say old chap: don't worry, a spanking from your wife isn't all that bad, in fact I quite like it when my wife spanks me.

Six of the best: One gentlemen says to the other, "Will you be taking your wife's knickers
down to-night?" "By Jove," says the other, "for six of the best with a
cane, on her bare bottom" with a smile.

Baxter: The younger guy to the older guy: I believe my wife could use some discipline. What do you recommend?The
older guy to the younger: I strongly suggest that you get a cane and a
tawse and use them strongly on your wife to show her who is boss.

Dr. Ken: "And then we will remove their panties and spank their bare bottoms and
they can appreciate our bulges, for we are two WILD AND CRAZY GUYS!"

Nina: "...and when I came home she had cut out all the pictures of my newspaper. Well,
old chap, you can probably imagine how miffed I was, so I took the cane
from the bed and gave her what she deserved for such an insolence.

Vfrat25000: Hey George, I’ll let you in on a little secret…I’m wearing my wife’s underwear.Frederick,
I guess I should let you know a little secret as well. Your wife was
hiding behind my living room couch when you arrived and guess what, she
didn’t need her underwear!

George, I want to discuss that merger with Arlington Iron Works. I’m not sure it’s a good move.Fred, I want to find a Port-A-John ASAP. That foot-long chili dog I had for lunch is fighting back.

Let’s go light a bag of dog crap and throw it on Franklin’s porch. We can tease him at the next Board Meeting.

What do you mean you have no idea where you parked?

I am going to puke. Can I borrow your hat?

Get
your hand out of your pocket, man. We are in public. If you want to
play “pocket pool,” at least wait until we are back at the office,
that’s disgusting, you perv.

A. Lurker: "Did you happen to see the 2 young ladies who were here a while ago?""The ones who were discussing how much they enjoy being spanked? One of them was wearing an entire garden on her hat?""Yes, those 2! Now that I have returned with my cane I can't find them anywhere!"

Hermione: Pendergast, old boy, I assure you that caning a young lady is quite as invigorating as riding to hounds, and you won't end the day with muddy boots.

Who knew two such serious gentlemen discussed those topics? For another interesting topic about a similar subject, please join us for brunch, coming up next.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

If you had been eavesdropping on our spankings over the past few weeks, you might have heard the odd snippet of conversation in between swats. If you weren't within earshot, I have collected them for you here.

Me: Ow!
Ron: What?
Me: I said 'ow'.
Ron: Does that hurt?
Me: Of course it hurts.
Ron: Then all is as it should be. Bum gets whacked. Bum hurts.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Today's story by R.T. Mason is another of those politically incorrect ones that feature a stern, overbearing employer and a meek, timid office worker. I wouldn't want to be in this young woman's shoes - or would I?

The infernal jangling of the alarm abruptly shocked her from sleep. That diabolical, inhuman, nerve-jarring jangling that she had always hated. But today it was ten times worse.

Before, in all those years of marriage, it had been for Mark. Alison could at least put her head under the bedclothes and ignore it for half an hour longer. But not any more. Mark wasn't here any longer and Alison was alone in the big double bed. The nerve-wracking racket meant that today, she, Alison Clements, had to get up and face the cold, unfriendly world.

She and Mark had finally decided that the only answer was a separation, at least a temporary one, because their relationship had simply been going from bad to worse. Constant arguments, frequently about nothing, or alternatively those long stony silences. Mark had suggested they split up and Alison had agreed it was a good idea. And somehow they had agreed to do it - about the only thing they had been able to agree on for a year. But while the idea seemed sensible, the reality of life alone was something else.

Groaning, Alison forced herself to get out of bed. She naturally had to have a job now if she was going to be independent, or even survive. In seven years of marriage she had held one or two temporary jobs, mostly part-time and mainly for pin-money with the comforting feeling that she wasn't dependent on it. Her husband was the primary wage-earner, even if she did quarrel with him most of the time. But now the job was serious, her main source of income. Mark had agreed to give her an allowance but it wasn't a lot and anyway she didn't want it - did she? Alison had her pride and she didn't want the stigma of feeling 'kept'.

Alison slipped off her shorty nightie and got in the shower. Now she was fully awake she didn't feel so bad, and the warm water spraying her slim, shapely form felt marvellous. The thought of the job, though, was scary; new people; a whole new frightening world with everyone eyeing her, watching her mistakes. In particular her new boss - what would he be like?

Oh cut it out, she admonished herself. Once the first day was over it would seem like nothing, she would be laughing at herself for being so frightened. Before she knew it the job would simply be part of her life - and probably very enjoyable. And apart from the money, getting out and meeting people was just what she needed.

Alison put on what she had already set aside to wear to work. Her smart grey linen suit with the white buttons on the jacket. Smart but not showy, a suitable outfit for a sensible but modern young woman. And 29 was still young. You still had all the world before you and at the same time a little maturity and experience to go with it. Alison tried to convince herself but the hesitant, timid side of her subconscious kept repeating that the only experience she had was of marriage. Of shopping and house cleaning and cooking a man's meals. Office life and all that responsibility could be frightening!

Stop it, Alison told herself. She was being stupid again. She applied some make-up, not a lot, she didn't want to look tarty just nice and attractive.

A crowded train and then a crowded tube, packed like sardines, a hand at her bottom that Alison felt sure was deliberate, but there wasn't much she could do. The world wasn't really a very friendly place. Then her office building, when she found it, didn't look too inviting either. It was in a seedy back street, a featureless bleak-looking structure of dirty brick that had once, no doubt, been red. It was the first time she'd seen the place because she'd been interviewed first by the agency and then by the company's personnel department at a smart city centre location. This really did look something of a let-down.

The wall plate in the dingy foyer listed Rudgefield Engineering as being on the fifth floor. Alison felt an awful urge to turn straight round and catch the train back home; then perhaps phone Mark in the evening. But she gritted her teeth. No she couldn't do that. She pressed the elevator button. Glancing at her watch she saw it was five past nine. The letter had asked her to start at nine. Oh well...

* * *

Frank Kirkham, up on the fifth floor, had been in his office since 8:15. He enjoyed getting up early, a habit he had acquired in the army where, naturally, everyone had to obey orders. Of course, in civvy street that kind of discipline was impossible. But at least you'd think the bloody girl could manage 9 o'clock! He gave his watch another impatient glance. Where was this new girl?

The philosophy of the barrack room was that women were useful in only two places, in bed and in the kitchen, and if they couldn't perform satisfactorily in those two areas you took the belt to their bare arses! Frank Kirkham looked again at his watch. Gone five past nine! What this new girl undoubtedly needed was Frank Kirkham's belt across her arse as soon as she stepped through the door.

He had in any case viewed her coming with some foreboding. If you had to have a woman in the office you needed an older one. Like Mrs. Thornton. Mrs Thornton had got into the office at 8:45, regular as clockwork, and then got her head down and worked - just like a man in fact with never any of the histrionics or complaints about vague illnesses that you always got from the younger women. But Mrs Thornton had unfortunately decided to retire and personnel were sending him this Clements girl. Twenty-nine and 'a pretty young thing' according to that stupid woman in personnel.

Frank Kirkham knew what he'd like to do to a 29 year old 'pretty young thing' who couldn't even make a 9 o'clock start on her first day. Bend her over his desk with her knickers down and lay into her bare arse with his belt - or his cane.

His stimulating reverie was interrupted by, at last, a hesitant knock at the door. He got to his feet, glancing again at his watch. 9:08.

"There are plenty of trains, young woman. If I can get here at 8:15, a late train is no excuse. One thing I insist on is punctuality. Not the only thing but certainly one of them."

Alison stood in front of him, trembling, her hands nervously twisting the straps of her handbag. This was simply dreadful. This bully with the hard grating voice and the contemptuous gaze was going to be her boss! He was clearly going to be worse than anything she had imagined!

At last Mr Kirkham grudgingly invited her to sit down. Now she regretted not coming for a personal interview where she would have had a chance to say 'No thanks' - and would have done! But stupidly she hadn't. Now even if she said right away she didn't want to stay she was stuck with a month's notice or she would forgo any benefit. Alison could feel herself sweating.

Across that big desk Mr Kirkham was going through her file that the personnel office had sent. Why the very patchy job record, his grating voice wanted to know? What had she been doing? And why did she suddenly want a job now, at 29? Especially as she couldn't seem to be bothered to arrive on time on her first day?

Alison found herself helplessly stuttering out all the facts - that she and her husband had separated. As son as she said it, Alison knew she'd done the wrong thing. Anything this awful man knew about her might be used...

Why had they separated, he demanded, his eyes glinting?

Although clearly it was none of his business, Alison was too frightened to say so. "We...we kept arguing, " she whispered.

Frank Kirkham gave an incredulous laugh. "Arguing? And your husband put up with that? He must be a real weak fool. You don't argue with a woman. You tell her what to do and if she doesn't like it you damn well give her something to think about!"

His bull-like head was thrust out across the desk, almost into her face.

"A touch of the whippy stick, Mrs. Clements, that's what I'm talking about. That's what you modern young women need. A sharp stick across your backsides...or a dose of doubled over trouser belt. That's the answer to domestic arguments!"

Alison found herself studying her handbag with great interest. Her face was boiling hot. This was unbelievable!

"Look at me, Mrs Clements. I hope you're not planning any arguments with me?"

Briefly Alison met his eyes and then looked away. The incredible thought of what he was suggesting flared hotly in her mind.

The frightening man was suddenly on his feet and striding over to a bookcase full of catalogues and things. "Let me show you something," he said, as he reached in behind the books.

When he turned back, Mr Kirkham held in his hand a long thin straight stick. A bamboo cane.

"Do you know what this is?" he demanded.

Alison felt too weak, too terrified, to answer.

"I got this in Egypt when I was in the army. They know how to deal with their women. This cane is the kind they use on their wives' backsides."

Frank Kirkham gave the cane a horrifying swish through the air as he went gloatingly on.

"I was given a demonstration by this Egyptian chappie who worked in the NAAFI. He took us round to his place one evening. He had a pretty little wife, very Westernised, and she did something to upset him. Whatever it was he gave her a caning in front of us. Me and two other squaddies. He bent her over a chair, yanked up her dress and pulled down her knickers. And then let her have it good and hard across her bare bottom."

Mr Kirkham's cane whistled again through the air and he was almost licking his lips. "A cane just like this one, Mrs Clements."

The tears were welling in Alison's eyes. How could she have ended up here with this monster. A vivid picture of what he had described floated across her mind. Mr Kirkham and his mates greedily watching as the Egyptian caned his wife. What if Mr Kirkham told her...

He put the cane down and produced a sardonic grin. "So now we know, don't we, Mrs Clements? Now we know we must keep very much up to the mark. No sloppy work or typing errors. Everything filed properly away. No complaints of any sort. And above all, we get in before 9 o'clock."

Alison sat with bowed head. "Look at me when I speak to you!" he ordered. She gave a quick darting look and then turned her head away - but not before Frank Kirkham had seen real tears welling up in those big grey eyes.

He experienced a surge of excitement. He didn't want some silly young girl in his office but if he had to be landed with one - well there was clearly something to be said for one he could clearly scare the daylights out of. And what possibilities!! He glanced at his cane. Frank Kirkham had been dreaming about ever having the chance to use it and had doubted it. But this Clements girl...this timid, frightened little mouse...

Frank Kirkham did his best to produce a smile; a crocodile smile, perhaps? He stood up.

"Right, now we're clear on that I better show you what you'll be doing. It's reasonably straightforward - and I'm not such a difficult man to get on with."

Frank Kirkham could say that and somehow believe it. It wasn't him who was difficult, it was other people - and especially feather-brained young things. He showed his frightened mouse what had to be done and where things were. It was general secretarial work and there was a small - not very attractive - metal-walled office leading off his where Alison would work. As he showed her around, Alison's new boss had his sharp eyes glued to her. She had a nice shape on her in that snugly-fitting suit. A full, firm arse emphasised by her slim waist. In fact he thought that with her skirt and knickers off it would look very much like the Egyptian bloke's wife's arse, but a slightly paler shade, of course. That thought had really made something stand rigidly to attention.

* * *

Alison phoned Mark that evening. She would have phoned him as soon as she got home but she forced herself to wait until she'd had dinner. She didn't want to appear too desperate. Not that Alison felt like eating, not with the horrifying prospect of going back to that dreadful office tomorrow, and to the atrocious Mr Kirkham who simply made her freeze with fright. She asked Mark how he was getting on and he sounded quite cheerful. He had gone out for a meal and Alison wondered, with a pang of pain and misery, if he'd taken a girl. Of course she was too proud to ask.

Mark asked about her job and, doing her best to keep her voice even, Alison said it was 'quite interesting'. What else could she say? She couldn't tell him the truth, not after one day. She was determined to stand on her own. She tried not to think of Mr Kirkham's cane. The cane or a man's belt, Mr Kirkham had warned in that first stunning meeting. And she could quite imagine him doing it. That harsh grating voice ordering her to take her skirt off. And then her knickers. It was totally outrageous but oh, she could imagine it all right! What on earth would she do if he took it into his head to do that? Because she was frightened of him. He literally scared the living daylights out of her.

So she told Mark it was 'quite interesting'. What she really wanted to do was tell Mr Kirkham that she was walking out on his job. She knew he could insist on a month's notice, that was in the contract she had signed, but...perhaps she could offer to pay something to get out of it. Quite frankly she didn't even want to go back there in the morning. She didn't ever want to see that dreadful man again. Not that Mr Kirkham had done anything yet but after that first devastating blast Alison knew that, at the slightest excuse...

The two letters she had typed for Mr Kirkham she had read through about a hundred times and even then she had been afraid to take them in to him. Afraid there might be one spelling mistake she hadn't noticed. And then, that cane he had put back in the bookcase - who could tell what a man like that might do?

But telling Mr Kirkham she didn't want the job meant confronting him. Alison didn't know if she had the nerve for that.

* * *

When the alarm once more jarred her awake in the morning, Alison's automatic thought was that it was for Mark. As she had done so often in the past she out her head under the covers. Another half an hour and then...reality came flooding horrendously back. Reality? It seemed more like a nightmare. She stumbled frantically out of bed. She had to be there by nine.

She was fortunate because by tearing round, Alison got out of the house earlier and managed to catch a slightly earlier train. Perhaps all right wasn't quite the word, it was still horrible and, on the tube, there was another intimate hand groping her bottom. Which, when Alison tried to get off, took a firm and unequivocal hold on one cheek of her bottom. But compared to being late for Mr. Kirkham, that seemed like nothing.

It was 8:55 when, after a nervous knock, Alison entered the office for her second day. Frank Kirkham, of course, was already behind his desk. He gave her a brusque 'Good Morning'. She was on time, he noted with satisfaction, which meant he had put the fear of God into her. Or more accurately, the fear of his cane. In a way he was sorry she was on time because he was relishing having another go at her. She was clearly scared of him, a frightened little mouse, and a little mouse all on her own. He knew if he turned the screws on her she would just fold up and do anything he asked...

Frank Kirkham's eyes followed Alison as she went into her little room. The same tight-skirted suit as yesterday. Tight over trimly rounded buttocks. He could just make out the hemline of her knickers. Were they white like the Egyptian girl's? Quite probably. White seemed a suitable colour for a scared little mouse. Frank Kirkham shifted on his seat, easing the front of his trousers. Yes he quite regretted the fact that the little mouse was on time. But there was always tomorrow...

As Alison opened the door to her office, Mr Kirkham's voice grated out behind her.

"Glad to see you're on time, young woman. I daresay the thought of that cane made you hurry yourself."

Scarlet-faced, Alison sat down. It was true but by spelling it out like that, her dreadful boss had brought it out of the shadowy realms of possibility to become a clearly stated threat. What she should do was immediately challenge it; threaten him back, say she would report him if he tried such a thing. But Alison was too scared to say anything.

By not speaking out she knew she was tacitly accepting the horrendous possibility. Alison put her head down, fumbling in her desk. She had planned to say she wanted to leave but she was too scared even to say that. She was also scared to realise she needed her salary here. She needed to keep this job.

Somehow she got through the day, keeping in her depressing little room as much as possible, a quiet little mouse, while Mr Kirkham, in the main office, got on with the business of phoning people and seeing clients. At lunchtime he told her, "Strictly one hour, Mrs Clements." He didn't exactly say 'or else' but his hard stare seemed to say "Or else, Mrs Clements, I'll put you across my desk with your knickers down and I will very much enjoy doing it."

The afternoon was a repeat of the morning. Some typing and looking things up in catalogues. All the time Alison was in a panic that something would go wrong and then... She was still thinking about saying she wanted to leave, trying to summon up the courage. When it's time to go home, I'll say it, she told herself. I can't stand it here. I'd almost rather be destitute. And at 5 o'clock Alison had almost worked up enough nerve. But then, as she went into the main office, Mr Kirkham got in first.

"So, Mrs Clements, my new girl has never had the cane?"

It simply took the wind out of her sails - what little wind there was. She stared at him like a stuffed dummy.

"Not even at school? Never had a sensible Headmistress putting the cane across the palm of your hand? Or across that pretty bottom?"

Colouring like a beetroot, Alison shook her head. Anything she had bravely rehearsed just disappeared.

Mr Kirkham pursed his lips and stared at her. "It's never too late." he said.

Going down in the elevator, Alison told herself: He's just waiting for an opportunity. I know he is. Any excuse.

That's enough to digest for one day. I'll post the rest of the story next week, when naturally, the opportunity arises.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Anon: In these days of almost constant contact it is a rare spanking session
that is not somehow interrupted. Personally I always make sure I have
turned off my mobile phone but I daren't suggest that Mistress does the
same. Normally she answers the phone and has a conversation and then
continues, sometimes however she will continue the punishment whilst
carrying on a conversation, I always wonder what the person on the other
end makes of the noises they are hearing. Sometimes visitors have
arrived during the punishment and it depends who the caller is what
happens. If it is someone who is aware of our activities she has
sometimes invited them in to admire my welted bottom and on one
memorable occasion to give some strokes themselves, something I find
both humiliating and exciting.

Dan: It has not happened that often that an interruption occurred during a
spanking. The more prevalent scenario is there is an unanticipated
visitor or event that occurs before a session was to start. That often
results in the session not happening at all.

abby: It has happened and it depends on what the interruption is. At worse, it is postponed...but never forgotten.

Sir Wendel: It all depends on the interruption. The phone is always ignored. When
the door bell rings we stop to see who it is. If its salesman we
immediately pick up where we left off. For relatives we stop.

arched one: We have been lucky that a spanking has never been interrupted. We
keep our spanking private (unless she has told any of her girlfriends that she
spanks me). She and I believe that once a spanking starts we continue
until it's completed. If we did get a phone call she would answer it
then finish spanking me.

Bogey: If the mood is interrupted, we found it best for us to abandon and reschedule.

Roz: We have been interrupted by phone calls that couldn't be ignored and
worse, knocks at the door! Rick has usually dealt with the interruption
then resumed the spanking where possible.

Dave Wolfe: Good question, Hermione, and I'd have to go with "Number Four," but I like Roz's reply.

Even
before the cell phone I thought it was, at best, bad manners to begin
ignoring the person you're having any actual encounter with to answer a
damn call. But once in a while-- ONCE in a while!-- it's someone at the
hospital or in other desperate need. Then, yes, handle the situation
and return to your other important business.
Good question, Hermione, and I'd have to go with "Number Four," but I like Roz's reply.

Even
before the cell phone I thought it was, at best, bad manners to begin
ignoring the person you're having any actual encounter with to answer a
damn call. But once in a while-- ONCE in a while!-- it's someone at the
hospital or in other desperate need. Then, yes, handle the situation
and return to your other important business.

Baxter: My phone is always on in case some company business needs to be taken
care of. However, if I am indisposed, such as being spanked, in the
bathroom or taking a shower or having sex, the phone is either turned
off or left in another room. Whatever the call is can wait until the
mood of a spanking or sex has been finished. It is not like any phone
call is the end of the world or anything else. I remember well the days
before internet and cell phones when no one cared about being in
constant contact and I am 58 years old.

Pete B: When my wife is disciplining me my cell is off and we never answer the
door during a session. My wife does leave her cell on and should she get
a call, I am to maintain spanking position as she deals with the
call. Under no circumstances is the session ever postponed or forgotten.

A
few weeks ago her father was calling from London and they spoke for 30
minutes. I stayed in position bare bottomed leaning over the side of an
upholstered armchair.

Welcome, Pete!

sub hub: All of the above. We have a house with kids and it is rare that we
actually get to spend "alone time" together. We make do though.

Six of the best: As of now, the spankings that I have given to women have been carried
out successfully without interruptions. Should there be any
interruptions in the future, will depend on what type they are.

Ronnie: Does depend on what the interruption is. Phone ringing we ignore. If
the door bell goes we stop and see if they go away. If it goes again one
of us will go and see who it is. Salespeople we can usually get rid of
straight away and then we will resume. Sometimes though with the
interruption the moment is lost and we postpone.

Hermione: It depends on what the interruption is. If the phone rings, we let it go to voice mail and check it later. A knock on the door is also ignored, unless we are expecting a delivery or a visitor. Household emergencies - something going "crash" in the next room, for example - will cause the spanking to stop while Ron goes to investigate. If something unexpected happens before the spanking, it will be postponed until a better time.

Well, we managed to have an uninterrupted and enjoyable brunch together. See you all next week!

Sunday, October 19, 2014

The weather is turning cooler here in Canada, but it's warm and toasty here at our weekly brunch, so let's get started on this week's topic. Sometimes our spankings don't always go exactly as planned. Don't you hate it when that happens?

Are your spankings sometimes interrupted by external events? If so, what do you do?

Ignore the interruption and carry on

Stop, deal with the interruption, then continue where you left off

Abandon the spanking or postpone it until a better time

It depends

Leave your response as a comment, and once everyone has had a chance to contribute, I will publish a summary of our discussion.

Six of the best: "Tonight my husband has promised to give me a good spanking on my bare
bottom as a loving birthday present. " said one lady to the other.

Leigh: Lord, I can't wait to get some of these clothes off, it's too darn hot.

Nina: I have cut out all the pictures of my husband's newspaper. He will be
pretty miffed and I have placed his best cane on the bed, just to make
sure I get what I deserve.

Rollin: "Don't smirk at me, Isabelle. You try balancing a hat made out of a whole flower garden on your head and see how dumb you look."

Dr. Ken: Lady in the flowered hat SAYS:"He's so sweet, and he always
says, 'I forgive you, darling', when what I REALLY want him to do is
throw me over his lap, pull my skirt up and my bloomers down, and give
me the spanking of my life! But of course he'd never do that."Lady in white THINKS:"Oh, yes he would! But I don't dare tell you how I know that!"

Anon: Mildred! Did you put roofies in the tea again?

Ricky: OK, who is it this time?

Baxter: Lady #1 "Wasn't it fun, the both of us being caned at the same time by our
husbands? Good thing we have all these layers of clothes on to cushion
our sore bottoms from these benches?"Lady #2 "Oh yes, let's do it again sometime. Maybe your husband can cane me and mine cane you? Oh how much fun."

Mitch: You see, Josie, I remove my outer coat and hat while he is undressing.
Then I stripe him with my cane. I will never allow him to be the big
boss he tries to be. Oh, perhaps in the outside world he can act like
that, but not with me.

Sir Wendel: "So I says to him, ‘Take yer bloom’n voice lessons and shove em up yer
bloom'n arse’. Then he promptly whipped my bloom’n arse with a cane he
did.”“Oh my!” Yes sir I tell ya. “In Spain the pain from the cane is mainly on my BLOOM’N ARSE.”

DelFonte: Egged on by her friend, she was tempted to add one more posy of roses to her hat, just to see if she would topple over.

Ronnie: Mother didn't tell me how wonderful it was to be spanked by one's husband.

sub hub: If I sit just like this, the plug feels more full and puts right there.

Kingspan: "Why do you call this the whipping bench, my dear? Is this where the maids are chastised when they're naughty?"

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

You read it right. That's not a typo. This year we are celebrating our ninth annual Love Our Lurkers day over a two-day period. The official dates are:

November 12-13, 2014

Because readers from all over the globe join in the big Love Our Lurkers celebration, a single LOL day ends for bloggers in Australia and New Zealand before it has begun for those of us in North America. I don't want anyone to think they have missed LOL day and feel they are too late to participate. It's never too late to welcome the silent readers of your blog, or to come out of the shadows if you are a lurker yourself. This year you will have even more time to do it.

For those of you who are new to blogland, Love Our Lurkers is a day when we each publish a post encouraging readers to leave comments on blogs that they usually don't comment on. Most of us have far more readers than commenters, and this gives our silent readers or lurkers a chance to speak.Our dear friend Bonnie came up with the idea of loving our lurkers, and headed up LOL day command central for eight years. Now I have taken over the responsibility and I only hope I can do half as good a job as she did.

In past years some people have written encouraging posts, others invite their readers to answer specific questions, and some even have contests involving spanking and the number of comments received. It's up to you to make your LOL Day post special in your own way.

Please advertise Love Our Lurkers Days on your blog, tell your friends,
and make sure everyone knows about it. I'm counting on you all to spread
the word. Let's make this year's LOL celebration the biggest and best one ever!